ptsd
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; The storm after the storm.
When I Figured out What It's Called
I've never been a brave person. As a small child I was terrified of the dark. I'm told that's normal. As I grew into a teenager and young adult, I hit a growth spurt. I was 17 years old and 6'2" tall. I had the weight to match and not a whole lot of enemies either. My best friends protectors, I never saw what happened coming. Now, being as large as I am, you can imagine I'm not a fan of small spaces or not being able to move. You'd be right. When I was 16, I discovered I have a huge phobia of being restrained or unable to defend myself. My senior year of high school I had kind of let this fear get out of hand. I'd have bad dreams, be unable to watch horror movies, etc. Again, I'm not a brave person. I confided in my best friend, who we'll call Emily, and she tried to help me deal with it. Little did I know? She'd gone to our other best friend, we'll call her Lucy...and the two of them dragged my third best friend, Mary, into their plan to get me for April Fools. April Fools came and went though and nothing happened...three days later I was on my lunch period and went to meet them at our usual spot. An empty classroom. I got there first, set my stuff down and waited. Now this was 2008, so smartphones and texting/Facebook were not the thing. When they arrived...I could immediately tell something wasn't right. There were two doors in/out of this classroom, both of which they blocked. Lucy at one, Mary at the other. Emily had stepped towards me, and in her hands? A roll of duct tape...Now that set me on edge, so I stood up. "What are you doing with that?" I'd asked trying to not sound afraid. "Oh this? Nothing, just spinning it around see?" She replied putting it down. Meanwhile, Lucy and Mary had moved closer. So the three of them had encircled me. Now, this was a physics teacher's classroom so it was honestly no big deal that there was rope on the back counter. Emily grabbed it. Before I knew what was happening, they'd backed me into the other corner. Lucy grabbed one arm, Mary the other. Emily had managed to tie my legs together now. I began to struggle against them but had a hard time balancing. They drove me spine first into the sharp edge of a table and now I was on my back unable to move. Both arms pinned down, legs tied together, and they weren't done yet. Lucy switched places with Emily who'd been holding down my left arm. Lucy was now standing over me, Duct tape in hand. "Guys we need to hold her down better and shut her up so no one downstairs hears her!" Lucy laughed. So did the other two. I however was not laughing. Lucy began to play with the tape. Ripping it off the roll over and over. Finally, she ripped off a giant piece and I had this sinking sick feeling wash over me...I began struggling again. Begging and pleading with them. "Come on guys this isn't funny. Please you're hurting me! Let me go come on!" I was on the verge of crying. I could hear the panic in my voice. "Enough. Shut up, we don't want to hear your whining!" Lucy shouted at me. And her face made me shiver. She then attempted to tape my mouth shut but I moved and she punched me in the face. Ever been punched in the face? It sends this shockwave through you. But it worked. I had been subdued and Lucy was able to put the tape over my mouth. So now I was completely helpless. Voiceless too. They were all laughing while I was crying and bleeding. It set off this indescribable fire in me. Suddenly, one of our younger friends came in and said "Hey! What the hell is going on?!" I dug my fingernails into Mary's hand, drawing blood and she released my right arm. She took off running. I now had a free hand. Lucy fled, a look of "Oh crap" on her face. Emily, however, was still latched onto my left forearm. She's 5'6" and 90 pounds soaking wet. But she'd been hanging off the table, nearly pulling my shoulder out of it's socket. I started beating on her and finally she let go and ran out of the room. The younger friend began playing 20 questions with me. I was freaking out! I was shaking so bad I could not untie my legs. So she helped. The second I was free I took off after those three bitches. They ended up back upstairs. They claimed they were not aware of my phobia and it was a joke. I was covered in bruises. Had a bloody nose, and was trembling uncontrollably. The rest of my senior year I suffered from intense nightmares. Vivid dreams that would rip me from a dead sleep. At the young age of 17? No, I did not tell the principal. Because I didn't want my "best friends" in trouble. I also had no idea that it would be affecting me ten years later.
By Aimee Brown8 years ago in Psyche
PTSD
I am going to start by telling you my story is a little harsh. My story starts with me being friends with my ex, still talking and being friendly with him, still hanging out with him and our friends. To this day, I still ask myself why I was still friends with him, but each time I ask myself I never get an answer. But this story takes a turn for the worst. My ex called me one day over the summer and asked if I would meet him and some of our friends at an abandoned house to drink and get high. I agreed and went to the house, but when I got there it was just him. I asked him where everyone else was and he told me they were on their way. I believed him and we sat and drank waiting for the rest of our friends to show up. When it started getting dark I told my ex that I had to go, but here is where it turns dark. My ex grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down to the ground. He got on top of me and ripped open my shirt and pulled down my shorts and underwear. He pinned my arms above my head and shoved his penis inside of me, hard. He continued until he finished he then got up and threw my clothes at me. He left, and I sat and cried for what felt like forever, but I eventually got up and left. After that, I had to see him at school for the next two years of high school. I never went to the police, mostly because I was scared that it might go to court. But from that day on I have never been the same; I have nightmares, night sweats, and night terrors. I am currently in a relationship and am trying to move forward, but it is very hard. My current boyfriend is very understanding and is there for me when I really need him. I have never seen a therapist or a counselor for this, even though it would help. Being able to get this out to maybe help others feels good. I now know that instead of being scared I should have gone to the police. I shouldn’t have let him get away with want he did to me. PTSD is what I live with now; it is hard to live with, but I push through each day. I also have bad depression, and that makes it a lot harder, but I keep pushing through. My story may not be what people first think of when they hear PTSD, but my story has left me with pretty bad PTSD. And it has taken a big toll on my life, and my relationship. My ex still thinks he did nothing to me, but what he did has turned my life upside down and I can’t get that day out of my head. My ex has a life of his own, a beautiful girlfriend, a good job, and his own place, but with what he did to me I have nightmares, night terrors, and night sweats. My life is so much harder because of what he did to me. My relationship even suffers sometimes because of what he did to me. And if anyone takes anything from this, I hope it is not to be scared when someone hurts you, and to go straight to the cops and let them put the person that hurt you behind bars.
By Bianca Johnson8 years ago in Psyche
Tips for Coping with PTSD
I want to start by saying that PTSD by definition is a condition that is diagnosed to those who have either witnessed a traumatic or have experienced a traumatic event in their lives. For instance and I am going to be completely honest by saying this, I have been molested as a child and raped as an adult. I found my boyfriend dead on our bathroom floor when I was 19. At one point when I was in my early twenties, I was homeless and I saw a lot… that is when the rape occurred. Back then I was lost as well as broken. A broken empty shell of a person that jumped from one abusive relationship to another. The last abusive relationship damn near killed me, literally. There was one night I can remember even praying for death because the pain was just too much to bear. After I finally was able to leave I found myself at a shelter for the battered and abused women. It was then that I began therapy, started college, moved into my apartment, and was diagnosed with PTSD. I still struggle with the anxiety, nightmares, and depression. So I know what it is like and I am here to help with coping mechanisms.
By Alyssa Horn8 years ago in Psyche
Mental Illness: The Demons Within
The next illness on the list is PTSD, also known as: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I wasn’t diagnosed with this until I was hospitalized on 5 North (the psychiatric ward of the hospital) but I believe it’s something I have had long before I was in the hospital.
By Alyssa Lactin8 years ago in Psyche
What It's Like to Have PTSD
Having PTSD is beyond scary. Most can't fathom the depths of its terror. It is like there is a deep dark sadness and it engulfs you, crushing your lungs until it seeps into you. It wraps itself around your organs and bones so you feel this sadness throughout your whole being. It begins to define you. It even seeps into your brain where it wreaks havoc. It drags you kicking and screaming into the past with nightmares and flashbacks over and over again. It makes the horrors of the past real and present dangers. There is no getting away from them. You can't outrun them. You can't reason with them. They are all there to stay for good.
By Lexi Merrick8 years ago in Psyche
PTSD in Emergency Services
It's something not thought of often, if at all, before doing your big daring stunt to impress the girl, to show off in front of your friends, or look "cool." The risky backflip into murky waters, the drag race up a dark lane, or that "wicked burnout" you had to do in a busy street. What happens when it all goes wrong? When the worst possible but most likely outcome comes about?
By Madison Robins8 years ago in Psyche
Living with C-PTSD
It starts off small and slow. I begin to feel anxious for no reason at all. I begin checking the time, counting down the hours. I begin to feel strung up so tight, like everything my snap and fall apart in the blink of an eye. I feel so restless. Everything is foggy. Everything is blurry and out of focus.
By Christina Woodcock8 years ago in Psyche
PTSD
By definition, PTSD is a mental health problem that some people develop after experiencing or witnessing a shocking, terrifying, or dangerous event. For the most part and what society is used to hearing is that PTSD is associated with the military. A vast majority of veterans have come home with this disorder, many have gone undiagnosed, homeless, and having to face the ramifications of PTSD on their own. Holidays such as the 4th of July have an aching affect on veterans, homeless or not, due to the loud bangs of firework celebrations. Loud sounds such as fireworks when heard by vets with PTSD will mentally send them for cover, as thought the loud sounds takes them back to when they were in battle; the load sounds from gun fire and missiles are what vets are feeling rather than logically knowing at the time they are hearing fireworks.
By Kate Adams8 years ago in Psyche
What My Flashbacks Feel Like...
Like most people, whilst cleaning I get lost in thought. Perhaps unlike most other people, however, one thought is always attached to another. My mind is comparable to a tangled ball of yarn. It's impossible for me to pull one thread loose without tugging out another one along with it.
By Christina Woodcock8 years ago in Psyche
I Failed My Own Assassination Attempt
The day I tried to kill myself was the last of three days living in complete hell unlike any I’d ever known. I’d spent three days in a dissociated state, floating through my day with zombie eyes and a catatonic stride. I was barely able to function. I’d walk into the bathroom and wonder why I was there. I’d stare at the eggs cooking in my frying pan and wonder what I was supposed to do with them. I’d look at the sender of a text message and wonder, Who the hell is Momma Dukes?
By Regina Longwell8 years ago in Psyche
